


the worst thing that i ever did was what i did to you

by zenithal



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Hanscom is a Good Friend, Blink-182 - Freeform, Eating Disorders, Eddie Kaspbrak Needs A Hug, I Love Patricia Blum Uris, M/M, Mutual Pining, Richie Tozier Needs a Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, They all need hugs honestly, what's an epistolary fic but with journal entries called
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25716607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zenithal/pseuds/zenithal
Summary: The first page is dated April 13, 2001.God. This isn’t a diary, okay? I swear to god, I think diaries are so stupid. When I think of a diary it’s always teenage girls on bright pink beds writing in sparkly diaries with a pen with feathers or fuzz or something on the end so it moves while she writes. Whatever. Mom doesn’t even let me use ink pens - the ink is carcinogenic.That’s not what this is about. It’s about that stupid trashmouth. Like it always is.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68





	the worst thing that i ever did was what i did to you

**Author's Note:**

> hi please read the tags if anything mentioned is triggering for you!! nothing is talked about super in detail but there are mentions of eating disorders, depression, and suicidal ideation, so if those are triggering for you please don't read !!!
> 
> also yes the title is from betty by taylor swift. what do u want from me

Richie stumbles in the door with a laugh and a half-shout as he tumbles into the wall. Eddie is right behind him, closing the door and grabbing Richie by the shoulders to try and haul him further into the apartment.

“God, I love Bev,” Richie slurs, giggling into Eddie’s hair as he wraps his arms around him. Eddie untangles himself from the man’s long arms and loops one over his shoulders so he can properly carry him to his bedroom.

“Me, too, bud, but the last time you were this drunk you broke my bed frame and then forgot about it.”

“Whatever.  _ Ugh _ , are you putting me to bed? I don’t wanna,” Richie whines. 

“You’re a child. Yes, I’m putting you to bed, you can’t even stand properly,” Eddie huffs, pulling Richie into his room and dropping him onto the unmade bed.

Richie whines and tugs at something he must have landed on. Eddie reaches for it and pulls it out from under him, and finds it to be a small notebook. It’s open to a page dated as the day before.

_ October 30, 2016 _

_ eddie is the cutest and also hottest person on earth, probably. i can’t believe he wore a fucking BILLY LOOMIS costume trick or treating??? well, we were just handing out candy but YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. THAT MOTHERFUCKER LICKED BLOOD OFF HIS FINGERS. i have been half-hard all night which is probably not good considering i’ve been interacting with children all night as well but holy fuck. _

That’s as far as Eddie gets into reading before the journal is snatched from his fingers. He looks up to see Richie sitting up, flushed with embarrassment and close to tears. He gets like this when he’s drunk, sometimes; as whiny as he always is, when he’s drunk, he’s overly emotional. He’s cried over The Simpsons more than once while drinking with Bev.

“What did you read?” He says weakly.

“Nothing. I barely had time to see it, I couldn’t read it in time.”

Richie nods. “Don’t read it,” he says.

He tucks the journal into his nightstand drawer and lays back down. Eddie pulls his shoes off for him and takes his glasses as well, folding them and setting them on the table. Richie is already asleep by the time he exits the room.

As he settles into his own bed, he can’t stop thinking about the journal. Whatever that journal was, whatever Richie was writing in there… it was about him. That part he read, even by itself, was enough to make him stupidly hopeful that Richie could actually reciprocate his feelings. I mean - shit, what else could that mean, right?

At one point in the night, he can’t take it anymore, and he gets up and slowly makes his way to Richie’s room. He enters the room quietly, stopping for a moment beside the bed to make sure the snoring man below him is really asleep. Once he’s satisfied with the answer, he opens the bedside table’s drawer and takes out the little notebook. 

It seems reasonably aged, but like it’s been taken care of, which almost shocks Eddie. Most of the notebooks Richie carried around in high school and college were basically destroyed by the time he was done with them, so the fact that this little journal has been so well preserved for what looks like a long time is surprising.

He takes the journal back to his own room so he doesn’t risk waking Richie, and when he’s settled back into his bed, he begins to read the first page of the journal.

_ 8/3/11 _

_ eddie kaspbrak is a little bitch. _

_ okay i’m absolutely kidding HOWEVER _

_ he keeps coming back from the gym in that stupid muscle shirt (BILL IS THE DEVIL INCARNATE FOR BUYING HIM THAT SHIRT WHY WOULD HE DO THIS TO ME) and he’s always like drenched in sweat even though he literally has a bus ride home so how is he still sweating?? anyway, his stupid biceps are always like shiny and so is his neck and i just want to like... lick him or something. jesus. _

Eddie laughs quietly. Okay, so Richie definitely, at the very least, thinks he’s hot. Which is a start, and is honestly more than he had ever expected. He answered Richie’s question in his head; he was sweaty because he ran from the bus stop back to the apartment in hopes that Richie would notice. He thought it wasn’t working, so he stopped not long after the entry in the journal.

He flips the page, his stomach churning a little with guilt, but the guilt being overtaken by curiosity.

_ 9/1/11 _

_ why have i never noticed how hot he is when he’s driving? he just focuses on the road and clenches his teeth (dad would kill him) and like FUCK. _

_ also i told sandy about eddie and she said he sounded nice and i almost laughed because he would hate her. she wrote down that i didn’t seem to agree that he was nice and i told her “no he is nice he just hates doctors and blondes” and she GLARED at me hahaha _

_ anyway she asked me if i was in love with him and i’m pretty sure she was being super blunt about it as payback for what i said but i couldn’t answer because i haven’t told anyone except bill and then i threw up _

_ she told me she was sorry but i don’t believe her and i think i’m skipping my appointment on the 15th because she’s being a bitch and doesn’t deserve to see my beautiful face until next month.  _

Sandy? Eddie doesn’t know anyone named Sandy. From what’s written, it seems like she was his therapist, but he’s never heard Richie talk about her or seen him go to any appointments. He feels a little dejected at the thought of Richie keeping it from him but… he’s kept things from Richie too.

_ 9/15/11 _

_ i actually did go to my appointment today. i still feel gross when i think about the last time i came but something happened and i felt like if i didn’t tell someone it would kill me. _

_ eddie brought someone home last night. a man. he brought a guy home. and they slept together twenty fucking feet from me in his room. i left basically as soon as it started because i felt like i was gonna be sick and i couldn’t just listen to the guy i  _ _ love am in love with _ _ like banging someone in the next room. so i went to bill’s and then this morning i went to see sandy. _

_ she said that i was allowed to be upset about it and that helped a little. i felt less like an idiot, anyway. i just wanted someone who wasn’t bill to validate me, i guess, and once i had that i was able to come back home. before i left, sandy said she was proud of me for being able to talk about eddie that way - about being jealous of the guy he brought home, about being angry - considering my reaction when she brought up love. i told her that the only thing i was ever good at was talking so she shouldn’t get too excited, and she told me that wasn’t true. i don’t think she knows what she’s talking about, because if she knew me, she would know that i am bad at even the easiest things in the world unless they involve running my mouth.  _

_ the guy was gone by the time i got home and i never saw his face, just his shoes in front of the door and his jacket on eddie’s hook, but i felt like i could still feel him in the air. eddie looked annoyingly normal and didn’t mention the guy, just offered me a cup of coffee and asked where i’d been. bill’s, i told him. poor old man, he couldn’t figure out how to set up his new wifi modem. eddie smiled at that and went back to his room to get ready for work. _

_ i’m glad i didn’t see whoever that guy was, because if i had, and i ever saw him again, i would probably kill him right there in the street. _

Eddie remembers that guy. His name was Jake, and they’d met at a bar Ben had dragged him to. The guy was nice and sweet and clean and quiet, quite frankly the opposite of Richie, and he had just fully come out to everyone, and he figured he was allowed a night of fun. The guy hadn’t wanted to go back to his own place, so he took him back to his and Richie’s apartment. It was late and he’d figured Richie was asleep, so he was a little louder than he normally might’ve been. In some sick part of his mind, he had almost hoped Richie would hear, and that he would be jealous. Now that he has the confirmation that, yes, Richie heard and yes, Richie was so jealous that he had to  _ go to therapy, _ he feels sick. He wants to take that whole night back.

_ 12/25/11 _

_ i haven’t written here in a while but wow i am very drunk and in love with eddie _

_ yeah i can say that now by the way i can say i love him because earlier tonight when we were all saying goodnight i heard ben tell bev he loved her and it just made me feel good so i decided that maybe saying i love eddie would make me feel good and it does _

_ it’s christmas and eddie got me a chia pet with abe lincoln on it which i thought was the funniest thing in the fucking world and he smiled so wide at me when i laughed and it felt really good so i laughed even more and he just kept smiling the whole rest of the time we were opening presents and i loved it so much i love him _

_ 1/1/12 _

_ happy new year!!!! eddie punched me in the face.  _

_ it was an accident but he left a bruise and it’s kind of really bad actually but it’s okay because he iced it for me and patty giggled the whole time he was trying to get me to sit still so he could press frozen peas into my face and i just wanted to kiss him. he kept apologizing as he held my face between his hands, one pressing peas to my eye and the other stroking my cheek with his thumb like he wasn’t even thinking about it. he was just whispering “i’m so sorry” over and over and stroking my cheek and checking my bruise and he was so close to me, and if it wasn’t for the rest of the losers sitting around us i really think i would have kissed him. _

_ anyway it’s 3am goodnight _

_ 2/22/12 _

_ ben called me this morning and asked me if i knew what bev would want for their ten year anniversary. i told him that i didn’t, because i only buy bev gag gifts and gift cards and i didn’t think that would work for their anniversary, and he said thanks anyway. then i heard eddie talking to him and he said “well, if i were buying something for richie…” and i almost fucking died. i mean i literally slipped and hit my face on the bathroom sink and was bleeding everywhere and eddie had to hang up on ben and take care of me.  _

_ i felt bad but when he asked what happened i made a joke about “falling for him” and he flushed super red and stopped looking at the cut on my head and i think he was actually mad at me for being so dumb. so i said “i just fell, i’m sorry.” but he shook his head and said not to apologize, and he said i didn’t need stitches but that i should lay down, so now i’m laying down. _

_ i didn’t mean to piss him off with the joke. i make jokes like that all the time, i don’t really know why that specific one got his panties in a twist, but i feel bad now. i’m gonna get some water and try not to die in the process. _

_ 3/14/12 _

_ well. that definitely wasn’t a gag gift. _

_ ben just PROPOSED to bev for their ten year anniversary. i guess it’s a long time coming - ten years is a long time to be together and not get engaged - but i think that ben has been working up to it for a while, and bev wanted to give him the time to do so.  _

_ eddie and patty were crying and they both hugged ben in like a group hug after he was done kissing bev (gross) and then i almost cried because i realized how much i love my friends (also gross.) i got in on that group hug because i thought it was unfair that they all got to hug and i didn’t, and then it was all eight of us in one big group hug somehow, and i just love them all so much. holy shit.  _

_ 3/15/12 _

_ fuck hangovers oh my GOD _

_ listen. i love bev. but she likes tequila WAY too much and i know she just got engaged, but jesus. while i love being drunk in the moment, hangovers are probably my least favorite thing in the world.  _

_ you know. except for the eddie part. _

_ he always takes care of me when i’m drunk and then in the morning when i’m hungover, too. the last time i was hungover he took me out to the couch and put a pillow in his lap and let me nap on him for like four hours. i would wake up intermittently and feel his fingers in my hair as he hummed to the simpsons intro, and i would kind of use the hangover as an excuse to press my face into his stomach and be close to him in a way i can’t when i’m awake and well.  _

_ today i woke up to him placing water and aspirin on my bedside table, and while he was shutting my curtains extra tight (to make sure the sun didn’t hurt my head, he said) he noticed me watching him and smiled. hand in the cookie jar, eds.  _

_ i didn’t get to cuddle with him this time, which is a bummer, but we sat together in the kitchen and ate chocolate chip cookies for breakfast, because we’re adults. and i know he’s hungover, too, (motherfucker did more shots than i did, i watched him) but he doesn’t show it. probably because he thinks he has to take care of me. _

_ i want to take care of him, too. _

Suddenly, Eddie hears heavy footsteps coming out of Richie’s room and leading to the bathroom. He sits still and listens as Richie laughs at something in the bathroom, then goes back to his own room. The bedsprings squeak as Richie lays back down, and then there’s the sound of the old nightstand drawer scraping open. 

Eddie’s heart seizes as he hears Richie stand once again, walking quickly around his room before stopping suddenly. Then his footsteps make their way, slowly, into the hallway and over to Eddie’s door. The guilt and shame of having taken Richie’s journal seem to freeze him in place as Richie opens his door. Immediately he watches Richie’s eyes catch the journal and turn from hazy panic to red-hot rage.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Richie says, voice deadly calm. Eddie snaps the journal closed as if that will help the situation any, pushing it away from him. He sits up a little further against the pillows, bracing himself.

“Rich, I-”

“No, seriously, what the  _ fuck _ do you think you’re doing? You came into my room specifically to steal my journal after I  _ told _ you not to read it? Do you know how fucked up that is?”

“Richie, I’m so sorry,” Eddie says weakly. “I didn’t- I didn’t mean to- I just saw what you wrote about me and I-”

“What, you’re so fucking self-centered you have to read all about what anyone says about you, right? Well, fuck you.” Richie storms over to him and snatches the journal from his lap. “My fucking feelings aren’t yours to analyze.”

Richie turns and storms from the room, slamming the door shut behind him. 

“Richie!” Eddie calls, He stumbles from his bed and out the door, opening Richie’s door across the hall. Richie turns to him from where he was shoving the journal back in its drawer. 

“You really don’t know when to fucking stop, do you?”

  
“Richie, please just listen to me,” Eddie pleads.

“Listen to what?!” Richie shouts. “I don’t have anything to fucking say to you! You know everything about me, now, aren’t you  _ satisfied _ ?!”

“It wasn’t about that! I just wanted to know how you felt about me! I just needed to know if- if-”

“What, if I was in love with you? Yeah, Eds, you got my big secret out in the open.  _ Fuck you! _ You had no right to know anything you read in there!”

“I just needed to know if you felt the  _ same _ about me, Richie! I needed to know before I got my hopes up, I-”

“Stop.” Richie’s voice drops down to hiss. “Stop it. You don’t get to fucking justify what you did by kissing my ass-”

“I’m not. Please, I’m not, it’s the truth. I read what you wrote about Halloween and-”

“I don’t need to hear about what I wrote, Eddie, I fucking wrote it.” Richie snaps. “Get out of my fucking room. I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Richie, I want you-”

“I don’t care if you fucking like me, Eddie! I don’t fucking care! I wrote this shit down so it didn’t fucking  _ kill _ me, and you just read it all for  _ fun _ ! To satisfy your own fucking curiosity.  _ FUCK. YOU.” _

He’s right in Eddie’s face as he screams this. Eddie knows he won’t hit him, he knows, he  _ knows _ , but his hand comes up to point in Eddie’s face and he flinches, curling in on himself. He feels weak for it, feels shame stirring in his stomach because he knows Richie sees it. He knows Richie knows  _ why _ he’s flinching, even if he hasn’t been in a home with his mother since 2001. 

Richie doesn’t say anything, doesn’t apologize, but he backs away and turns around back to his bed. 

“Get out.”

Eddie turns and walks out of Richie’s room, closing the door gently behind him and doing the same for his own bedroom. Once he’s behind his own door, he can’t hold back the tears springing in his eyes. The overwhelming combination of learning that Richie is in love with him, trying to tell Richie he feels the same, being rejected because he betrayed Richie’s trust, and then being reminded of his mother, all happening within an hour, is too much for him. His throat hurts from holding back a sob even as it finally escapes. He covers his mouth so Richie won’t hear, though he knows it won’t matter either way. He’ll be surprised if Richie ever looks at him the same again. 

In the morning, when Eddie wakes up, Richie is already gone. He’s afraid to call and ask where he’s gone, so he doesn’t. He walks slowly out to the kitchen as if he expects the house itself to attack him for what he did. He starts the coffee maker and leans against the counter, staring at the floor until he hears it stop brewing. It feels like time has stopped. The house is too quiet without Richie’s constant movement, the doorway too empty without his jacket, the coffee pot too full without him taking a cup as well.

Trying desperately to fill the absences, he texts Bill asking if he’s seen Richie. He doesn’t expect to get a call in return.

“Hello?”

“You have some huge fucking balls even asking about Richie right now, you know that?”

“What? Is he with you?”

“He trusted you. You know he trusts you more than anyone in the world, Eddie, and you fucking broke it for you own gain.”

“I didn’t-”

“You did. You broke his trust and you barely seem sorry for it.”

“I am! I feel like shit, Bill, I- I love him. I love him.”

“Well, it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it? You should’ve thought about that before.”

“Bill, please, just let me talk to-”

The line goes dead. Eddie feels his stomach sink and he sits down on the kitchen floor with his coffee mug, trembling as he sets it down next to him and hangs his head between his knees. For the first time in a long time, he wishes he had his inhaler, or a pill he could take to trick himself into being okay. He wants Richie to tell him he’s going to be okay like he always does when he has a panic attack, but he’s alone. 

He sits on the floor until his neck and back ache and his coffee is cold. His legs tremble as he stands, leaning his hip against the counter as he dumps his full cup of coffee into the sink and rinses the mug. After he sets it in the sink, he leans against the counter for a few moments longer to try and collect himself.

As he sits gingerly on the couch and begins to curl into himself, he realizes that his whole world has shaken itself to pieces in a matter of hours. On top of that fact, every bit of it has been his fault. Bill is pissed at him, he broke Richie’s trust, and he knows that every one of the other Losers would agree with Bill that he doesn’t deserve to be forgiven. He can’t imagine a worse way to hurt Richie. He learned so many things about Richie that he wished so badly, now, that he had just  _ asked _ about. He wishes he could have just asked him what was in the journal instead of needing to be the worst person he could be by taking the journal himself. Now that he looks back on it, Richie really never keeps things from him like this if he openly asks about them, and he probably could have gotten all that he needed from just asking. 

He wishes, more than anything, that he had just  _ asked. _

Even with the growing dread inside him, he can’t let his day go completely haywire. It’ll only make him feel worse in the long run to not have everything else in order when something so drastic has already tipped him on his side. He places a grocery order for pickup in an hour and, in the meantime, begins to slowly pick up the living room. 

It’s a few hours after dinner when Richie finally walks in the door. Eddie is nearly asleep on the couch, The Simpsons providing the only light in the room. He jumps at the sound of the door opening, sitting up with bleary eyes.

Richie silently slips off his shoes, kicking them gently into their place before taking off his jacket and hanging it on his hook beside Eddie’s. He doesn’t make eye contact with Eddie until he has absolutely nowhere else to look, and when he finally does, all he sees in Eddie’s eyes is guilt and fatigue. Overwhelming fatigue, it seems, because he’s already beginning to doze off again. Richie wonders if he’s tired because he didn’t sleep or if he’d worn himself out throughout the day, maybe from crying or pacing or both.

They take a moment just to take each other in. They’re both in last night’s clothes, both messy and unshowered, even Eddie. It only adds to the terrible energy of the room, Richie’s anger still seeming to thicken the air.

“There’s dinner,” Eddie says, almost drowned out by the television. He grabs the remote and turns it down, grateful for the opportunity to break the tense eye contact.

“Already ate,” Richie says sharply. He does enter the kitchen, though, grabbing a cup and making himself a glass of water. Leaning against the fridge, he drinks it down greedily, and Eddie forces himself to watch the TV instead of the liquid dribbling down the man’s chin and into his shirt. 

“Got groceries. There’s juice. Saved it for you.”

Richie sets the glass in the sink and wipes his mouth. He looks over at Eddie again. His eyes are dark and angry, suddenly, when before they had simply been judging, calculating. 

“You think that’s an apology? Fucking apricot juice?”

“No. I’m not trying to apologize, you don’t  _ want _ me to apologize. I broke your trust-”

“You did more than break my fucking trust, Eddie, you went behind my  _ back _ -”

“I know what I did!” Eddie shouts. Richie bristles, staring at him as he sits up. “I fucked up, Richie, I know that, but I don’t… there’s nothing else I can say. You don’t want me to apologize, telling you I want you didn’t make it any better, you don’t want me to do anything for you - I don’t know what you want! I don’t even think  _ you _ know what you want!”

“I  _ want _ you to have not fucking betrayed me!”

“Well I did, Richie! I’m a terrible fucking person and an even worse friend and no matter what I do I can’t fix it. Right? Am I fucking wrong?” Richie is silent, watching Eddie work himself up. He’s got tears in his eyes now and he’s sitting properly on the couch, his knees on his elbows. “I don’t know what you want from me. I don’t know what to do. I’ll fucking move out if you ask me to, Rich, just give me something to work with.”

Richie stares at him for a few more seconds before  _ scoffing _ and pushing off the counter, heading back toward his room. Eddie watches him until he disappears down the hallway, and once he’s out of sight, he hangs his head and lets tears dribble down his cheeks. He stands slowly, still crying, and turns off the TV, heading back to his own room. 

Slowly, he crawls into bed and cocoons himself in his comforter, burying his face in it to try and stop the tears. He feels rubbed raw and guilty, his insides on his outsides. He can’t imagine how Richie feels, having everything he’s written for years out in the open like that. Can’t imagine how  _ he _ would feel if  _ his _ writings-

He sits up in his bed, suddenly, the idea striking him, and he can’t believe he didn’t think of it sooner. 

In the morning, when he has everything he wants set up, he decides to make breakfast. He just makes scrambled eggs, but he leaves half of it in the pan for Richie and, after a moment, decides he can’t be in the house. He can’t listen to Richie get up and eat, and he can’t hole himself up in his room trying to avoid him. Moreso, he doesn’t think Richie will want to see  _ him.  _ He wants him to be able to eat without having to fight Eddie or having to retreat back to his own room to eat in peace. He wants Richie to be able to eat at his own table and not have to hate it the whole time he does so.

He puts his eggs in a plastic Tupperware container, pressing the lid onto it before leaving the apartment quietly, even walking down the stairs to the parking lot quietly, desperate not to wake Richie or anyone else. 

Inside the car, he starts it up and turns on the heat and the radio. He eats slowly, giving Richie time to get up and find his food in the kitchen. When he finishes his food, he sets the Tupperware in the passenger seat and sets his head on the steering wheel, sighing deeply. At that moment, he thinks he could probably just drive away and never have to look back. Ben could collect his things and he could move to New York, like he’d been talking to Richie about for months, or he could go to Atlanta with Patty and Stan, or he could go somewhere new entirely. Colorado, or maybe California. Anywhere that didn’t require him to go back in and face Richie again and again and again.

He grabs the Tupperware out of the passenger seat and goes to exit the car when he catches the song that starts on the radio. He realizes belatedly (he really hadn’t been listening anyway) that it’s not the radio; it’s a mixtape Richie made for him. It was probably around 2009 or 2010 that Richie made him this CD, and its age shows as it plays I’m Yours by Jason Mraz. 

The song makes Eddie feel sick, remembering when they would lie in Richie’s bed or on the roof of the apartment building and Richie would sing the song to him, adding his own dumb ad libs and laughing his way through it. There were many times when it would be playing in the background and, while Richie had been singing it at one point, they would both fall into silence and just lie together and watch each other. Eddie closes his eyes and sighs, putting his head against the steering wheel until the cong ends. When it does, he switches the car off and sits in complete silence until he thinks himself composed enough to get out of the car and head back up the stairs to the apartment.

Eddie closes the door gently and toes off his shoes before noticing Richie, leaning against the counter with his arms across his chest. He stares Eddie down like a challenge, but Eddie just passes him and puts the Tupperware he ate his breakfast out of in the sink.

"Do you think I'm fucking stupid?" Richie asks sharply. 

Eddie turns and frowns at him. "What?"

"You think I don't know you just sat in your car to eat breakfast so you didn't have to eat with me? You read my fucking pages and now you're disgusted in me? Can't even sit at the same table as me?"

"Richie," Eddie starts, "I wanted  _ you _ to be able to eat without having to see  _ me _ . You didn’t even want to talk to me yesterday, I didn't think you would want to have to eat out here with me. So yes, Richie, I went out and I cried in my car and I tried to let you have breakfast in peace," Eddie snaps. He swallows and looks down. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to guilt you. I just… I told you how I felt. You didn't accept it, and that's fine. I just figured it would be easier for both of us if I kept my distance."

Richie clenches his jaw and looks away. After a moment, he pushes himself off the counter and towards his room.

Eddie hadn't meant to hurt Richie when he read his journal. His curiosity took hold of him like it often does and he didn’t even think about the repercussions until Richie was in front of him, pissed and hurt and embarrassed.

What Richie doesn't know was that Eddie has pages of his own. Probably way more than Richie had, actually, since Richie had only had that journal for about five years and Eddie had pages dating back to Junior prom. 

Eddie also has a plan.

A few hours later, Richie’s straightening his shirt, unsticking it from his shower-wet chest and back. He goes to drop his towel in his bedroom hamper but stops abruptly with the towel still hanging from his hand. There’s something on the bed.

He discards the towel and scoops up a blue, three-ringed school binder that looks like it’s straight out of his high school locker. In the front clear sleeve is a slip of paper reading:  _ Everything I’ve written about you for 15 years. I hope this makes up for what I’ve done. Eddie. _

Richie’s stomach twists as he stares at the neat lettering that he recognizes after so long as Eddie’s handwriting. 

“Christ,” He murmurs. He doesn’t quite know that he wants to read whatever’s inside. He knows how he felt when Eddie read his journal, and admittedly it was… awful. But Eddie is giving him permission, with this note, and he wants to know. He really wants to know. 

He opens the binder slowly, and on the top is a very thin, leather notebook. Under it is another, thicker leather notebook, and then one piece of paper. Both notebooks look old, aged at the very least, and he guesses that Eddie’s placed them in order. Of course, he has.

The first page is dated April 13, 2001. 

_ God. This isn’t a diary, okay? I swear to god, I think diaries are so stupid. When I think of a diary it’s always teenage girls on bright pink beds writing in sparkly diaries with a pen with feathers or fuzz or something on the end so it moves while she writes. Whatever. Mom doesn’t even let me use ink pens - the ink is carcinogenic.  _

_ That’s not what this is about. It’s about that stupid trashmouth. Like it always is. _

_ We were meant to go to prom together. Not together together, obviously - I see the way he looks at Bev, okay? - but neither of us had dates and he said: “You’re my best friend, why not?” _

_ Well. I’ll tell you why not. Because he has a fucking date. Betty Ripsom came to our lunch table and asked him and he said yes and now they’ve been talking over the phone to plan their outfits and what the fuck ever. I already convinced mom to let me go and Richie still expects me to go so now I have to just… watch them. Together. All night. _

_ I talked to Ben about it. He’s the only one who knows. He said he feels the same about Bev and Bill, and I told him that he should make a move with Bev after prom because at least he knows she likes guys, and he said he just might. I wish I was so brave. _

_ Prom is tomorrow night. I’m not sure I’ll even make it through the whole night, watching Richie and Betty, but… at least I’ll have Ben. _

The next page:

_ April 14, 2001 _

_ I was right. Tonight fucking sucked. Well - okay, it was fine until we actually got to the party. Everyone got ready at Richie’s, and he looked amazing. He looked so good all night. Betty really did plan their outfits well. It’s just a suit, but she insisted that he get an actual fitted suit and holy fuck, she was right. He looks like he just fell out of fucking heaven. Ben kept elbowing me in the ribs because I couldn’t take my eyes off of him and I kept missing parts of the conversation.  _

_ We were pregaming, because Bev and Richie insisted, and it was fun. It was really fun. Bev, in her dress, up dancing on Maggie’s coffee table to All The Small Things by Blink-182, singing to Ben - not Bill,  _ _ Ben _ _ , which I pointed out to him later - and Richie joining her halfway through, singing horribly down to me. Ben tried to point this out to me, too, but I reminded him that Richie is straight and he apologized for giving me false hope. He was just trying to make me feel better, but it made me feel even worse. _

_ Once we got to the school, Betty was already outside, and she might as well have grafted herself to the fabric on Richie’s arm because she didn’t move all night. Even when they were dancing, she was so close to him that I thought I was gonna be sick.  _

_ Poor Ben. My favorite guy. Best blackjack player in Maine, probably. Unrelated. (I’m still a little drunk.) _

_ Bev and Bill were laughing like any of us would have if we were dancing like that, but they seemed like they were having a really good time. Ben was just standing against the wall with me as we had to watch the people we loved happy with other people. I eventually said fuck it and took him outside to Richie’s car. _

_ We sat in the back seat together and drank gross, warm beer. Then we found some gross, warm vodka, and the party really got started. _

_ “I just don’t know what she sees in him,” Ben said angrily. Then, a moment later, he said, “That’s not true. She sees what we all see in him. He’s the best. What would she ever see in me?” _

_ “Ben,” I said. “What we all see in you.” _

_ And that was all it took. He was suddenly crying on my shoulder, setting down the bottle of vodka in the footwell and wrapping his arms around me. I held him until he stopped crying, and when he apologized I told him there was nothing to apologize for, and there wasn’t. _

_ And then Richie opened the car door. _

_ Betty was right behind him mid-giggle, her hands all over him, under his suit jacket, grafted onto his arm even still. Richie saw me and Ben and smiled, drunk in more ways than one. _

_ “Sorry, ladies, we were just, ah…” He grinned, and I knew. Ben knew. Richie turned to the succubus latched onto him. “You’ve got a car, right, Bets? See, no problem. Later, guys.” _

_ Richie closed the car door, and then it was my turn to cry. Ben held me as I had held him and I cried for even longer than he had. Richie was across the parking lot having sex with Betty Ripsom and I was drunk and crying in his car.  _

_ Anyway. Tonight fucking sucked. I’m staying at Ben’s tonight because we actually really bonded tonight and I didn’t want to leave him. Plus, he asked. I don’t wanna see Richie right now, either, and that’s where I was supposed to stay tonight. I just wish I could be his friend and just his friend, and not have to love him like this. I’m so tired. _

Richie felt sick. He hadn’t slept with Betty that night - she’d given him an unsuccessful blowjob in the back of her mom’s car and he’d apologized for not being able to enjoy it. She’d asked if he was gay and if that was why, and he couldn’t answer. She started crying and he left and went back in to gather Bill and Bev and head home, glad Stan and Mike were at home because he really couldn't stand it if Stan had found out about him and Betty. He hadn’t even noticed the red rings around Ben and Eddie’s eyes until Bev said something to Ben. He felt too terrible, then, to say anything to Eddie.

He flipped the page.

_ May 4, 2001 _

_ Star Wars day. That’s what today is. And Richie is so stupid. He wore his Darth Vader Halloween costume to school, because he’s the dumbest person alive, and Ben told me I was flushed all day, and he’s probably right. I love him so fucking much. _

There were multiple pages of very short entries of things that made Eddie lovesick, and then, near the end of the journal, there was a page that caught Richie’s eye. 

_ July 4, 2001 _

_ I’m wasted. I am absolutely wasted and so is Richie and I’m so so dumb.  _

_ I kissed him.  _

_ It was so quick and I was so scared and the second I realized what I’d done I pulled away. He tried to tell me it was okay but he looked so freaked out I knew he was lying, and I apologized so much and I started crying and he just left. He said he was sorry and he left and I know he called Bill because he’s the only other Loser that can drive, and he went home. Mom came in and asked me if I was sick and if I wanted soup and I was so weak and shaken up and heartbroken that I just let her baby me. Looking back now I feel horrible about it because I worked so hard to get away from that, but it felt like Richie had ripped my heart out of my chest and took it home with him.  _

_ I watched the fireworks alone. I listened to the horrible fourth of July radio specials alone. I went to bed alone. I’m going to wake up alone. And I’m going to keep waking up alone because Richie will never want me. _

_ July 5, 2001 _

_ He doesn’t remember. It’s the best thing to ever fucking happen to me. He can’t remember anything past when we finished Scream, and I swear to god when he told me that I almost cried. I have never been so happy that he forgot something and I have never been more grateful for tequila. Thank you, Bev. _

Richie really didn’t remember. If he had remembered, he’s sure 17-year-old Richie would have imploded. He had loved Eddie even back then. Of course, he had. He felt like he’d always loved Eddie. 

He read on.

_ Jan. 1, 2002 (technically) _

_ Well. It’s been one hell of a night. _

_ First of all, I met the new love of my life tonight - Patty Blum. She’s not really the love of my life, obviously, but she has definitely been sent from heaven. She’s got to be the sweetest, kindest person to ever grace this earth. Stan really does know how to pick ‘em. _

_ Somehow, Patty knew something was up tonight. God knows how. But she followed me into the kitchen when I went to make me and Richie new drinks and she asked, very kindly, without cornering me or hounding me or making me feel like I had to answer, if something was wrong. And it was so crazy to have someone just genuinely care, and not have their morbid curiosity take over when asking me, because I swear at that moment I had never wanted to tell someone something more. So, now Patty knows. Patty and Ben. My angels, really and truly. _

_ She was so kind about it. She just hugged me and told me that everything would work out, and somehow I was immediately inclined to believe her. I just love her so much already. I hope Stan knows how lucky he is. I’m positive he does. _

_ Richie pretended to kiss me at midnight and instead shoved half a cupcake in my mouth. I was so frozen at the prospect of kissing him (again) that I just let it happen. Everyone laughed and I felt sick, even though it was so normal and in the realm of what Richie always does. I just felt raw from talking to Patty and remembering when I kissed him the first time and I had to step out. Ben followed and asked if I was okay, and again there was that genuine questioning. No ulterior motive. He just wanted to know. He just cared. And I told him no, but that I would be, and I hoped it wasn’t a lie. _

_ Richie asked if I was alright, too. He followed me outside, and Ben patted me on the shoulder and went back in. When he asked me, it was just like Ben and Patty did it. He just cared. There was a tinge of guilt with it, though. He wanted to know if he’d done something. _

_ “Just a rough night with my mom,” I said. That wasn’t a lie, I guess - it was really hard to get her to let me leave tonight - but I still felt guilty. I corrected myself; “Just a rough night in general.” _

_ “Cause of me?” He asked. Straight to the point. _

_ “No. No, Rich, ‘course not.” I’m fucking dumb and I put my hand on his cheek. I held his face and he leaned into my hand and smiled.  _

_ “You’re sure you’re alright?” He asked. I smiled back at him. _

_ “Never better.” I’ve never wanted to kiss him more than that moment. He was flushed from drinking, leaning into my hand like a cat, smiling at me like it was a secret, and I just wanted to keep him there forever.  _

_ Patty opened the screen door of Bill’s porch and smiled sheepishly at us. “Stan’s asking for you,” she said. I took my hand from Richie’s cheek and thanked her for letting us know. She seemed to smile apologetically at me as she closed the door. She hadn’t interrupted anything, anyway. _

_ “Come here,” Richie murmured, and he pulled me into a hug. It was then that I remembered that, no matter what I feel for him or what he doesn’t feel for me, he’s still my best friend. We’re still Richie and Eddie, and he still understands me better than anyone else in the world. It shocks me that I forgot that, even for a moment. _

Richie remembers that night. He’d wanted to kiss Eddie at that moment, too, under the yellow light on Bill’s porch, ten minutes after midnight. Then Patty, being the angel that she is, came out and asked for them to come inside, and they had. Stan had just wanted to tell Patty the story of their first time meeting Eddie, and he thought Richie told it better. He did, but he always let Stan tell it and then took over when Stan seemed to struggle explaining something. Patty loved it.

He’s not sure he can keep reading. A heavy, sick feeling settles in the pit of his stomach, but he can’t place why. Maybe it’s because he’s realizing that he and Eddie have been dancing around each other for 15 years, or because he’s hearing all about how he hurt Eddie all the time without realizing it, or because he’s hearing about how much Eddie loves him. He doesn’t know. What he does know is this - he loves Eddie very much. Despite the rage and betrayal he’d been feeling since Eddie read his pages, he can’t deny that he will always love Eddie.

_ March 13, 2002 _

_ I feel like a fucking idiot, and it’s all my fault. _

_ Sometimes, Ben and I get together to… I don’t know. Mutually yearn. We drink a little, enough to get us nice and loose and sad, and we talk about Bev and Richie and sometimes Bill and Betty. We invited Patty to attend, but she’s not really one to yearn when she has Stan, so it’s a boys only event and we get to be as miserable as we want without Patty bringing reason into it and making us rethink it. _

_ I kind of wish she had been there tonight, though. I just wish there was some kind of buffer between me and my stupidity, because I don’t know if I’ll be able to look at Ben the same again. _

_ We were talking about Richie, and I said “I wish I could just like someone else. I wish I could move on and want someone else and not have to feel like this all the time.” _

_ And he said he felt the same way about Bev. He said he wanted to be able to be friends with her without his feelings getting in the way. And it made me realise, in what I thought was logic at the time but realise now was desperation and a little too much wine, that Ben and I could be together. We could use each other to get over the debilitating crushes we have on our friends. And we already know we can coexist, we already know so much about each other… so I kissed him. _

_ I immediately pulled back and he looked so shocked, like he’d genuinely never considered that I would want that, and I guess he was right because until that moment I hadn’t even thought about it. I apologized even faster than I did when I kissed Richie, and just like Richie, he said it was okay. He didn’t leave, though. He asked me what I was thinking and I told him, and he smiled at me, but it was a sad smile. It was one of Patty’s “Oh, honey,” smiles.  _

_ He told me he didn’t like boys and that, even if he did, he loves Bev too much to even think about anyone else. I told him that I felt the same about Richie and that was why I thought that maybe trying to like someone else could help, but he explained to me that he doesn’t want to  _ _ stop _ _ loving Bev. I said I understood, and I did. I do. _

_ Things got really awkward after that and he went home not long after. I feel really bad about it. I think I’m gonna call tomorrow to apologize. _

_ March 14, 2002 _

_ Ben called me first, this morning, like he knew I was fretting about picking up the phone myself.  _

_ “I know you’re still probably stressed about last night, because that’s what you do,” He said. “But it’s really alright, and the next time we hang out I don’t want anything to be weird. We were drunk, and… unrequited love sucks.” _

_ “Of course you would know the term for fucking unrequited love off the top of your head. Thanks, man. I was afraid I made everything all weird.” _

_ “No, we’re all good. We’re always good, man. Oh, and Bill said we’re hanging out at his tonight.” _

_ “Bill  _ _ said? _ _ Is this a hostage situation? Should I call the police?” _

_ “Shit, probably. He said his parents are gone with Georgie at some spring break school trip until Wednesday. He said, and I quote, ‘bring protection’ which could mean condoms or a sword, at this point.” _

_ I love my friends so much. _

Richie understood the feeling of wanting to be over Eddie very well. When he’d been just figuring out he was gay, he realized that he was in love with Eddie and was terrified of that fact. In his fear, he’d kissed Bill. He was completely sober, but afterwards, he’d cried into Bill’s sweatshirt as the poor boy stuttered very confused attempts at comforting words. He’d had to explain, later,  _ why  _ he’d kissed Bill and why he’d cried so much afterward, and Bill immediately understood. He told him, very shyly, that he had feelings for Mike, and Richie had immediately crushed him into a hug, because at the time, he was the only other gay person he knew in Derry.  _ Bi _ , Bill told him many years later. It didn’t matter at the time, though. He was just happy to have an ally.

He flips the page, but he’s gotten to the end of the first journal, so he picks up the other one and opens to the first page.

_ April 22, 2002 _

_ I can’t believe I’ve started both of these damn things talking about prom. Well, whatever. We’re not going this year anyway. No, instead, Richie got all four of us - Stan is going to prom with Patty, and Bev and Ben are going together - fake IDs, and we’re going clubbing. Fucking clubbing. So instead of seeing Richie dance with one girl all night, I get to watch him dancing with a hundred drunk sorority girls. _

_ I don’t think I can do it. Neither Ben or Patty will be there, and I don’t feel comfortable telling the others. I love Mike, I do, but I don’t want more people to know than necessary, and I honestly don’t think he would be comfortable knowing. He hates secrets. And Bill would almost definitely tell Richie, so that’s off the table, too. _

_ So, yeah. I’m basically preparing for the worst night of my life Friday night. Fuck Senior Prom. That’s what Richie says. And while I agree, I also stand by Fuck Watching The Love Of Your Life Grind On A Bimbo. We’ll see how it goes. _

_ April 26, 2002 _

_ I fucking hate him I hate him so much  _ _ he’s the worst thing to ever happen to me _ _ he’s so fucking stupid I wish I’d never fucking met him  _ _ I fucking love him so much I want to fucking kill my _

_ I’m sorry. I need to take a shower and a walk, and I really need to call Patty. Tomorrow, though. I’m sure she’s having a good night and I don’t want to ruin it. I can’t write about what happened. I’m sorry. _

_ April 27, 2002 _

_ Okay. Okay. Patty said it might help to write it down, so… okay. _

_ I walked in on him with a girl. He was talking all kinds of dirty shit to her, had his hands all over her, had his fucking dick inside her. Full-blown walked in on him. _

_ She was pretty. She looked a lot like Betty, so I guess he has a type. She had big boobs and a tiny waist and she was moaning in his ear loud enough that I could hear it from outside the bathroom door. I was about to vomit and I burst into the bathroom and he had her sitting on the sink, clinging onto him and rocking against him. _

_ “Christ, Eddie, get out!” He shouted. I was frozen. I closed the door so fast that I ended up slamming it. I threw up right there in front of the door, and then again once I had run outside. Bill had seen me sprint out and he and Mike came to check on me. I told them to tell Richie I was getting a cab home.  _

_ I don’t hate him. I’m just… I wish I didn’t have to love him like this. It’s exhausting. I’m so, so tired. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. _

Holy shit. Richie forgot about that. He remembers now, though. He hadn’t even realized the girl looked like Betty. He just knew she kind of looked like Eddie. He’d been “dirty talking” because he was trying to get himself off. It felt wrong, fucking that girl, just like it did with every girl, and that was when he realized he was gay.

It took a little more than that, truthfully, but that night was a huge determining factor in his whole gay epiphany. First Betty, then that girl from the club, and then, during the one year in which he actually attended college, a kid named Brady. Brady was basically the exact opposite of Eddie - a lanky, grimy 19-year-old kid who ate every ingredient in his frozen yogurt and didn’t wash his hands when he went to the bathroom. He thought that, maybe, if he liked someone so different from Eddie, that he could get over him. That didn’t work, obviously, but it was his first time even remotely being in a relationship with a man and it was what really put the rainbow nail in his coffin. 

_ May 14, 2002 _

_ Patty said I might be depressed. She said Stan’s depressed, too, and that he feels suicidal sometimes because of it. I told her I wasn’t suicidal but I think we both know it wasn’t true. Everything is just so damn hopeless lately. Richie, school, rebelling against my mom, moving out of Derry. Everything is so hard and I’m just so tired. I’m so tired. _

_ Patty asked me to talk to someone about it. A doctor. She said she would go with me. I explained to her my… predicament with medicine and doctors and she told me that, unfortunately, this would have to be an exception. “If you don’t get help,” she said, “you might do something you regret. And sadly, Eddie, we all really want you around.” _

_ I love her. I love her so much. _

_ We’re going on the 23rd. I’m scared. But somehow, I know it’ll be okay because she’s with me. _

_ May 23, 2002 _

_ So. I guess I have depression. And suicidal ideation. They prescribed me some medication that should help with both. Patty said she was so proud of me for going that she wanted to celebrate, so we got McDonald’s ice cream and sang in her car to Make Your Own Kind Of Music by Cass Elliot. Again, I love her. I hope she and Stan get married. If not, I’ll marry her, gay or not. _

_ I don’t think I want anyone else to know. I just don’t. I’ll probably let Ben know, but Richie and everyone else… I just don’t want them to see me any differently. I just want to be Eddie. So I’ll just keep my medication a secret and hope they don’t find out. It’s none of their business, anyway. It’ll be our little secret. Me, Ben, Patty, and Stan. Not a very fun secret, but still.  _

_ Stan knows about me. About Richie. I let Patty tell him because she felt horrible about keeping it from him and I understood why. He hasn’t said anything about it to me and I’m kind of grateful. I don’t like talking about it anymore. _

_ May 28, 2002 _

_ I told Ben about Prom, and more importantly, about my depression. He looked so guilty when I told him and when I asked why, he said, “I should have been there for you. Shouldn’t I have been there? Shouldn’t I have known?” _

_  
_ _ “No, Ben, of course not,” I tried to reassure him. He was driving and he just stared out the windshield, obviously not accepting what I’d said. “Ben,  _ _ I _ _ didn’t know. If I didn’t know you couldn’t have known, either. You didn’t do anything wrong.” _

_ That seemed to soothe his anxiety a lot more, but he still seemed antsy. I was gonna ask him why he was still upset, but he beat me to the punch.  _

_ “I think I… I think I’m sick.” He said quietly. “I’ve been reading and talking to people and I think I have, um… I think I have an eating disorder.” _

_ I stared at him for maybe a moment too long. I didn’t know what that was. _

_ “A what? What does that mean?” _

_ “It means I… It’s like depression, but it’s about my body. I hate how I look, how much I weigh. And I’ve been starving myself, to try and lose weight. When I started it wasn’t a big deal, but now, Eddie, I…” His hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that I was worried his fingernails would pierce the leather. He clenched his jaw and sniffed like he was trying to physically hold back the tears in his eyes. “I can’t  _ _ stop _ _. I just feel so sick when I eat, and I hate food, and every time I eat I feel like… like I’ve done something  _ _ wrong _ _. And I know it’s getting bad because I’m so  _ _ tired _ _ , and I can barely get out of bed in the morning, and when I stand up I feel like I’m gonna fall over.” _

_ “Ben,” I said, and it was all I could manage for a while. I knew I sounded so heartbroken, but how was I supposed to sound? Ben is so important to me and he’s been struggling for so long, and I never knew. Looking back on it now, I remember that he hasn’t been eating at lunch, and that every time anyone has offered him food for months he hasn’t wanted any. I feel so shitty for not seeing it. “Ben, I’m so sorry. I should’ve… Someone should have…” _ __  
  


_ “Man, if I can’t blame myself for not knowing about you, you can’t blame yourself for this, okay? Please. Just… I needed to tell someone. I need  _ _ help _ _. I can’t do this alone.” _

_ I took one of his hands off the steering wheel and held it in both of mine.  _

_ “You’re never alone, Ben.” _

_ He pulled the car over to hug me, and we stayed there on the side of the road crying for a while after. I told him that we could get through this together, and he agreed.  _

_ Losers stick together, right? _

_ June 3, 2002 _

_ Fuck school!!!!! _

_ Sorry. My inner Richie jumped out. We all graduated today, and I feel great. I’m moving in with Richie and Bill at the end of the month and that feels even greater. I can’t fucking wait!!!! _

The next entry was a huge jump forward.

_ March 24, 2007 _

_ Holy fuck. I lost this thing in the move to Bangor. I forgot all about so much of this stuff. Well, anyhow, I’m doing better. I don’t have to take my antidepressants anymore and that feels amazing. I can be happy by myself again, no shitty pills in sight. Patty and Ben are still my favorite people in the whole world, and - get this - PATTY AND STAN ARE ENGAGED!!! _

_ I love them so much and I think I cried more than Patty did when Stan got on one knee. I’m so happy it worked out between them. Patty is a godsend and Stan deserves an angel like her. I’m happy for them. _

_ Bill and Mike are together now and Mike is gonna move in with us. He’s just gonna share Bill’s room, so we don’t have to get a bigger place or anything, and that’s probably good seeing as we can barely afford this shithole. Richie always says “It might be a shithole, but it’s our shithole,” and every time I want to kick his ass. He’s so dumb sometimes. _

_ Bev and Ben live together on the other side of Bangor and Ben calls me all the time to gush about how much he loves her. Even now that they’re together, he’s embarrassed to let her know he cares. I love hearing it, though, even when it makes me sad that I’ll never have that with Richie. _

_ Richie and I… We’re about the same as we were in high school. I’m still so in love with him that it hurts, and he’s still straight. It’s a little easier, now, since I’m older and wiser and blah blah blah. I just got better at shoving my feelings down into the pits of my stomach. It’s not the best option, but it is an option. And it’s the one I chose. _

_ That being said - this journal isn’t a good idea anymore. Dredging up all my feelings for Richie isn’t exactly my idea of fun, so I’m unfortunately gonna have to retire this bad boy.  _

_ R.I.P. Richie Journal. _

Richie, once again, feels sick at that. At Eddie pushing down his feelings, having to hide them because he thought Richie was straight.

Finally, Richie picks up the single piece of paper at the bottom of the binder. It’s folded in half, so he unfolds it and reads the short writing on it. 

_ November 2, 2016 _

_ Richie, _

_ I really am so sorry for what I did. I can only imagine how you’re feeling right now if how I felt when I read your pages is anything to go by. I hope you understand, now, that when I said I wanted you it wasn’t out of pity or obligation. I have always wanted you. I will always want you. _

_ The ball is in your court. It’s all up to you. _

_ Eddie. _

He stands, then. He can hear Eddie brewing coffee in the kitchen and heads in the direction of the sound, spotting Eddie on his phone in front of the coffee machine.

Eddie startles at the sound of Richie suddenly starting for him. He looks up from his phone and his eyes widen as he starts to speak. He doesn’t get that far, though - he’s cut off by Richie’s lips against his.

“Rich,” He gasps as he pulls away. “Richie, what-”

“I love you,” Richie breathes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Eddie replies instantly. Richie kisses him again, taking both of their breaths away with over 15 years of repressed emotions.

Eddie pulls away again but stays less than two inches from Richie’s lips.

“Does this- I mean, is this- does this mean we’re-”

“Together. Dating. If you want.”

“I meant if we were alright, but- shit, of course. Oh my god, of course.” Eddie kisses Richie again.

A few hours later, Eddie considers escaping from the tangle of limbs that he and Richie have become to call Ben and Patty because they deserve to know more than anybody, probably. Not only that, but Eddie feels like his chest is about to burst every time he looks down and sees Richie, clinging onto him like a sloth and snoring softly into his chest, and he needs to let it out somewhere. He decides, though, that he’s waited too long to be in this very position to give it up for a couple of phone calls, and that they can wait until morning to hear the big news. In the meantime, he just wants to sleep, with Richie next to him, and to wake up with him still there. He thinks that that would probably be enough for him for the rest of his life.


End file.
